Senses
by AnglophileConfessions
Summary: Malia confronts Stiles about his feelings for Lydia, Stiles confronts his fear of telling Lydia he loves her, and Lydia realizes something important...
1. Scent

Malia had always been a very straightforward kind of girl. Spending 8 years of your life as a coyote tends to have that affect on a person. You don't learn manners in the woods. You don't make friends. You survive.

Being human meant throwing all these rules out the window. Malia now had to behave a certain way, she had to eat normal foods, wear clothes, learn math. When she first transformed into a human, Malia thought that it meant things would go back to the way they were before. It was so much harder than she expected, and the guilt she felt over her mother and sister's death gnawed at her stomach, leaving her feeling queasy and anxious. Malia was unable to look at her father anymore. It only made her feel worse, and she could never tell him the truth. Then there was her stay in Eichen House; an utter nightmare and disaster. If she had thought that her stay there would make her feel better she was sadly mistaken. The only good experience she had in Eichen House was meeting Stiles Stilinski.

Meeting Stiles changed everything. He taught her how to be human again (mostly) and he brought her a sort of comfort that she had never had before. Plus, he was excellent at kissing (as well as a variety of other things), rather he realized it or not. Malia was always entirely devoted to Stiles. In some ways, over time, she had become dependent on him.

Therefore when she confronted Stiles about his feelings for Lydia Martin, she was filled with fear although she would never show it. She knew that Stiles liked her a lot. He genuinely liked her and seemed to like being her boyfriend, but she could tell that something just wasn't right. He looked at her entirely differently than he looked at Lydia. He was incredibly protective of Lydia. When he was around her, Malia could hear his heart skipping, could smell a mixture of anxiety and...something she couldn't actually place. When Stiles was with Malia, she smelled desire. She could feel a lot of other things as well, but it was mainly desire. Malia really liked Stiles. But, she wasn't sure that he felt as strongly. She was frustrated with Stiles, but she was even more frustrated with herself. She never wanted to feel dependent on anyone. Ever.

So, one autumn night, Malia decided to take control of her own life, despite her fear. No matter how much she liked Stiles, she wanted him to be happy. While she didn't think he was entirely unhappy, she knew he could be happier.

"Hey, Malia." Stiles said as Malia climbed through his window. He barely even looked up, but smiled anyway. She had been through his window too many times to count at this point. Stiles turned around in his desk chair and reached out to her, pulling her to him. He planted a gentle kiss on her lips and pushed her hair behind her ears. She looked at him, sadly.

"What's wrong?" Stiles asked, his dark brows knitting together.

"I need to talk to you. It's important." Malia stated. She sat down on his bed, facing him. "It's...us. Well, you."

"Oh no...what did I do?" Stiles' eyes widened and she could see the cogs turning as he desperately tried to figure out what he could have done to upset her. Malia shook her head and looked away. He didn't even realize it was happening. Of course he didn't. This was Stiles. He would never hurt her on purpose.

"Nothing! You didn't _do_ anything," Malia began, "But, I've just noticed lately that some things are...off."

"Off?" Stiles looked at her, squinting and tilting his head, the way he did when he was trying to understand something particularly difficult.

"Yeah. Off. You've been...ugh. Okay, forget it. I'm going to get straight to the point. How long have you been in love with Lydia?" Malia said, flat out stating her concerns. She hated beating around the bush.

"Since the 3rd...wait, what?!" Stiles seemed shocked, confused, sad, and disappointed in himself all at once. "I...I'm not. I used to like her a lot. But, we're dating now. I like you, Malia."

"Stiles, I know you like me. But, you love Lydia. I can practically smell it on you every time you see her or talk to her."

Stiles sat there in silence staring at Malia, still wearing an expression that was difficult to read. "But...But, I don't think of her like that. I'm dating _you, _Malia. Lydia doesn't like me like that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure...That's not the point though. The point is: you should like me completely or not like me at all, Stiles. I like you a lot. And I want both of us to feel happy. I've spent eight years plagued by guilt and fear and sadness. You have made me so happy. But, I don't want to be dependent on you for the rest of my life. And I don't want you to...settle for me, just because you don't think you'll ever be with the girl you really love." Malia's throat started to feel tight and her eyes started to tear up. She turned her head away and blinked until they had receded.

"Malia..." Stiles had risen from his desk chair and stooped to kneel in front of Malia, cupping her face in his hands. "I like you a lot. I do. You're an incredible person. You deserve all the love in the world..."

"You can't give it to me though." Malia said, her voice cracking.

"Are you dumping me?" Stiles was frowning. He sounded hurt and it was breaking Malia's heart, but she also felt a sort of relief. Relationships were hard. Sometimes you push through, other times you call it quits. This wasn't a time to push.

"I'm letting you go, Stiles. You still love Lydia. And I'm not mad at you for it. We can't control what we feel. Trust me. I would know. We both deserve a chance to be our own people and pursue our own desires. Lydia is what you desire, Stiles. So, go for it. Sort this out. You need to see if you and Lydia could ever be a thing, or you'll never get a chance to be a thing with anyone. Does that make sense?" Malia held Stiles' hands in hers and smiled at him sadly.

"I guess..." Stiles said, trailing off, looking up at her. He still looked wounded, but she knew he'd be okay. This would sting now, but he would heal with time. They both would. He looked down and she saw a tear make its way down his cheek. He wiped it away roughly and stood up, turning away from her. Malia felt disappointed that he wasn't fighting harder for her, that he wasn't disputing what she said, but her nose didn't lie. She knew what she was feeling, even if he didn't. Malia wasn't going to sit back and be his second choice.

"I will never leave you, Stiles." Malia said, reminded of their trip to Mexico months ago. "I'll always be your friend. And you'll always be my favorite person. We both just need time to...figure things out. You and Lydia deserve a chance. And I've got a lot to learn about myself. Stuff I think I need to figure out on my own."

Stiles nodded his head slowly, still turned away from her. She moved toward the window, but before she could climb into the darkness he caught her wrist, turning her to face him. His eyes raked over her face one last time, searching, then he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her feet off the ground.

"I'm sorry, Malia." He murmured into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

She squeezed him tighter in response and then let go, her arms dropping to her sides in a final sort of way. She smiled at him one last time before climbing from the window into the crisp Autumn night.


	2. Sight

**Before reading, check out the AMAZING mix that was inspired by this chapter Madgrad makes incredible mixes! I'm so flattered that this inspired one of her mixes!**

Stiles couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned, his sheets turning into waves of fabric that resembled his tumultuous sea of emotions. Finally he settled on his back, his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He felt painfully restless as Malia's words ran through his mind over and over again. He was torn between guilt and fierce desire, between "like" and "love." Stiles felt as though he would never sleep again. He had ran his hands through his hair so many times that it was sticking out in all directions instead of straight up.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Malia's sad expression as she left him. She had looked disappointed and down-trodden, her eyes dark, her mouth downturned. But, then he would imagine Lydia's swollen, pink lips, and her soft porcelain skin. He could envision her copper curls cascading down the curve of her back. He could almost feel her hips sway as he pictured her walking towards him, her cheeks dimpling as she smiled. And then he was rolling in guilt again. How could he think of Lydia like that when Malia had just dumped him? The answer was easy though. Stiles had never stopped thinking about Lydia like that. He adored her quick wit, her boundless intelligence, the way she constantly kept him on his toes, always alert and alive. He liked her even more than he had a year ago. Now that she was real flesh and bone. Now that he'd seen her broken and vulnerable and knew she had more heart than anyone would ever know, more strength and perseverance; it was now that he truly loved her.

Stiles let out an aggravated sigh. He got out of bed and paced, he looked up a thousand things about loving your best friend on google, he laid in the floor and did push-ups until his muscles ached and he regretted the repetitive motion. Eventually Stiles decided to take a shower.

He pulled his t-shirt away from his sweat-damp body, stepped out of his shorts and turned the shower knob until the water was scalding hot and steam had filled his bathroom. The water turned his skin red and felt comforting, like he was being wrapped in heat. He looked down, watching the water swirl down the drain, feeling it dampen his dark hair. Stiles had never felt more anxious. Or maybe he was feeling excitement…

The hot shower relaxed him enough to send him to sleep, but he was plagued by the same anxious sleeplessness for almost a week. Stiles couldn't stop thinking about everything that Malia had said. He felt a melancholy sadness seep into his heart every time they crossed paths in the hallway. He then felt excitement and nervous joy every time he spotted Lydia. He felt like he was starting to lose it again.

He finally confided in Scott at school at the end of the week, explaining what had happened with Malia, and what she had said about Lydia. "I just don't know what to do. Once minute, things were fine with Malia, the next they weren't. And then she said it was because I loved Lydia. And, I mean, I think I actually do."

Scott shook his head and clapped Stiles on the shoulder. "Then tell her. Just tell her already." He smiled and left Stiles to mull things over.

Being with Lydia would make him indescribably happy. It was odd; now that he really knew Lydia, he recognized that his prior feelings with her had not been real love. He had loved the idea of Lydia Martin, and it wasn't fair to either of them. Their friendship meant comfort with each other. He no longer felt nervous around Lydia. He didn't feel as though he was a constant irritation. He felt calm and happy, and she seemed happier too. Lydia had been through so much in the last year. Perhaps more than any of them. She had lost both Aiden and Allison in less than a day, and yet she continued to live. Lydia was strong and smart and fierce and Stiles adored her for it. She would cry in front of him, confide in him. Stiles felt honored that she shared that with him, because he knew that she didn't share it with many. Realizing that Lydia was only human, vulnerable and breakable, like the rest of them made Stiles love her even more. Because Lydia would always pull herself together, and keep going. Her strength kept him alive, when he felt as though he would be swallowed by darkness.

On the drive home from lacrosse practice, Stiles tried to imagine what Allison would say about his dilemma. A vision of her smiling understandingly swam before his eyes, making his heart sting. Allison's voice rang in his ears: _Just tell her how you feel, Stiles. Lydia likes when guys are honest and straightforward._ He nodded his head as if she were sitting right next to him. Then he remembered what Mrs. Mcall had once told Scott: "Women love words."

Stiles just couldn't seem to get the words out though. Weeks had flown by. Almost a month, and his courage kept failing him. Every time he invited Lydia over to hang out, or studied with her, or watched her fall asleep on the couch while they watched a movie together, he felt himself open his mouth to tell her how he felt. Before he could say anything he would feel himself swallow his words, choking on the unsaid. Lydia knew that he and Malia were no longer dating. She had even set Malia up on a few dates, and yet she still behaved the same as always. There were times when she would brush his arm or touch his leg and his heart would jump and he would think maybe she finally understood, but then he would realize that she was just being friendly. What if he told her and she no longer wanted to be his friend anymore?

"How the hell am I supposed to tell her I love her?" He kept asking himself. Stiles wished more than ever that he still had his mother. This was the sort of thing you were supposed to secretly talk to your mom about, but Stiles would never get that chance.

Later that night, he sat in his desk chair, staring at Lydia's drawing of the nematon, twirling a pen between his long fingers before he finally realized: life is fleeting. His mother had died and one day he would die, and his dad, and Scott, and Malia, and Lydia would be dead. It was morbid, but true. He had almost died last year. He had seen Scott, and Lydia, and Chris, and Isaac, grieve Allison. Time passed and life happened, and he sure as hell didn't want to die without ever taking a chance on Lydia.

Right. This was it. He was going to tell her right now. In person. Stiles stood up, grabbing his keys, and bounded down the hall, out the door and into his jeep. He took the shortest route possible, afraid that he would lose his nerve if he drove too long. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his sweaty lacrosse t-shirt. Stiles fruitlessly attempted to clear his thoughts and quell his fears as he drove. He imagined a hundred different scenarios before he reached Lydia's house.

Stiles parked the jeep and then found himself practically running to Lydia's front door before he realized he hadn't warned her that he would be coming over. So, standing on her doorstep, he dialed her number and waited, chewing his thumbnail. She answered on the third ring.

"Stiles?" Lydia's voice sounded in his ears, giving him courage.

"Hey, Lydia. Yeah, so, is it alright if I stop by tonight?"

"Uh…sure. Is something wrong?" Stiles detected a hint of fear in her voice.

"No! Nothing's wrong! I just want to talk to you." Stiles felt as though he couldn't catch his breath and his heart was pounding with a ferocity he didn't know it possessed.

"Okay…What time did you want to stop by?" Lydia asked, sounding relieved, but curious.

"Right now, actually if that's alright. I'm standing on your doorstep…" Stiles was sure he'd never felt more nervous in all his life, but he'd also never felt more sure of himself.


	3. Sound

"Sound"

The doorbell rang and Lydia hung up the phone. She looked down at her clothes; she was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. One of Stiles' actually…She shook her head and opened the door. Stiles looked oddly attractive, standing there in the doorway, chewing on his thumb, clearly nervous about something. As soon as he saw her, he dropped his hand and smiled, looking at her the way Lydia had always wished a guy would. He never looked at her like he was sizing up his next late night adventure. He looked at her with so much affection in his eyes. Whenever she was with Stiles, she began to feel the beginnings of the kind of emotions Allison had once spoken of. Just the sight of him, the feel of his arm brushing against hers as he walked past her in the entryway, was enough to take her breath away.

"So…what is it you wanted to talk about?" Lydia asked, trying to sound casual. It wasn't like Stiles to just show up out of the blue, unless it was an emergency. He had reassured her that nothing was wrong though…Stiles didn't look upset, he just looked nervous, biting his lower lip and looking at her in a very peculiar way. She felt an ache in her stomach as she watched him.

"Ummm…well, okay. This seemed like it was going to be easy and cool when I thought about it on the way over." Stiles said, rambling at top speed. "I way overestimated my ability to get words out of my mouth successfully.

"Stiles, slow down! What's going on?" Lydia looked at him closely. He was still wearing his lacrosse t-shirt and sweatpants, so clearly he had been in a rush. But, he'd gotten out of practice hours ago now, he should have had plenty of time to change…He also didn't call her though, meaning it was a last minute decision…

She looked down at the floor, waiting, thinking. When she looked up Stiles was looking at her like a lost puppy, amber colored eyes trying to convey what he couldn't seem to say.

Lydia crossed her arms, beginning to feel an equal measure of anxiousness and irritation. "Stiles, spit it out, already! You're freaking me out."

Stiles blinked and then laughed. His laugh sounded warm and welcoming to her ears. It was less like he was laughing and more like he was bursting with joy. Stiles had the kind of laugh that made you smile, even when you weren't sure you wanted to. Lydia's sharp tone seemed to have shaken him out of the seriousness he possessed moments before.

His smile faded into a soft grin and he moved forward, looking into her eyes. When he came to a halt, he was so close that she could smell the scent of his skin, hear his quick breath, and see the splashes of darker brown in his eyes. He stood close enough to touch, but far enough way not to crowd her. She had the strong desire to pull him closer. "Lydia, I… I love you. I've had a crush on you since we were 8 years old. The more I get to know you, the _real _you, the more respect and love I have for you. And I don't know if you feel the same way. And if you don't, I will never bother you about this again. I want you to be happy, Lydia. God, you deserve it. You deserve to be loved deeply and completely and…I want you to feel that. I need you to feel how much I love you, even if you don't love me, because if I don't get this off my chest and out in the open, I'm going to go crazy. I don't really want to do that. It was pretty bad last time…" He let out a nervous, sad laugh, dropping his eyes to the floor.

Lydia's eyes were filled with tears. She had never felt happier or more loved than in that moment. Stiles' words left her feeling more whole than she had felt in a long time. She wanted to tell him this, to tell him that she loved him too, but the sound wouldn't leave her lips, so she decided to show him instead.

In one swift movement, she closed the small space between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. His lips felt soft and warm against hers. Stiles froze in shock at first, but quickly melted into her, gently returning her kiss.

"So…does that mean you like me too? Or? Because, I just want to be clear-"

"Stiles," Lydia breathed, cutting his words short, "Please, just kiss me."

He laughed and pressed his lips to hers. They said so much to each other without speaking. Lydia ran her fingers through Stiles' dark, messy, hair as he wrapped his arms around her small frame, lifting her feet from the ground. His long arms engulfed her in warmth. She didn't know it at the time, but one day she would crave the heat of those arms when they were apart. There were many things she would crave when it came to Stiles…

They finally parted. As Stiles pulled away, he tucked a strawberry-blonde curl behind Lydia's ear. "Are you sure?" He asked her, looking down into her eyes.

Lydia stood on her tiptoes to kiss Stiles' cheek, then whispered "Yes. I love you, I love you, I love you." Then she gently nipped his ear lobe and kissed his neck, just below his jaw. Lydia could hear the rush of air from his lungs as he sighed in relief. She nuzzled into him, listening to his heartbeat, indescribably happy. The last time they had held each other this tightly, Parrish had told her that Meredith had died…or so they thought.

Lydia was glad that this hug was happening under much happier circumstances. She was so tired of darkness, of death. Her happiness was past due, and she wanted Stiles, and she deserved Stiles. He was the most incredible guy she had ever known.

They sat together and talked and joked and _laughed_. Lydia had missed this. Her laugh sounded foreign to her at first, but the more she laughed with Stiles, the better it felt. It was the early morning before they ceased talking and a comfortable silence settled over them. Stiles yawned widely and Lydia smiled at him.

"I guess I should probably get home." Stiles finally said.

"Stay." Lydia said quietly, blushing. She was nervous and determined. She didn't want him to leave her. Lydia wanted to feel him next to her tonight. It was the first time she had wanted to have another person that close to her in a long time. After Allison's death, she had avoided too much contact, too much…closeness.

"What? Like…sleep here?" He asked, his mouth falling open. "Are you-are you sure?"

"Yes!" She said, rolling her eyes. "Please, sleep here. If you want to, of course. My mom is staying at the Lake House this weekend so she can spend some time fixing it up for open houses…"

"Um… I am so okay with sleeping here. If you're sure you're okay with that." He said, smiling. "I just need to tell my dad I'm staying with you tonight."

While Stiles spoke to his dad, Lydia turned down her bed, fluffing the pillows and smoothing the sheets. Then she slipped out of her clothes and into her pajamas. With Jackson she had always worn barely-there lingerie, but with Stiles she wore an oversized T-shirt and short shorts. There was no need to present herself like some kind of gift. Stiles already knew she was. She climbed into bed and settled down, getting comfy. The low rumble of Stiles' voice sounded through the wall, lulling Lydia to sleep.

When Stiles stepped into Lydia's room he found her asleep. She looked so peaceful and at ease. Stiles smiled at the sight of Lydia looking so comfortable. He couldn't believe that she loved him in return. It was the oddest, most wonderful situation he'd ever been. He felt so lucky to love Lydia and to be loved by her in return.

He gently climbed into bed with Lydia, right to the center and wiggled until he was pressed against her back and draped his arm over her side. She stirred and mumbled "Your pillow. You can't sleep without your pillow."

"I'll be fine, don't worry about it." Stiles responded.

Lydia sleepily rolled over to face him. "Are you sure? I don't want to move too fast or anything…"

"Well, are you going to take advantage of me in the middle of the night? Because that might be too far." Stiles said, quietly chuckling.

"I promise not to compromise your virtue." Lydia responded, yawning. Stiles could almost feel her eyes rolling. She titled her head up and kissed his jaw. "I love you. Thank you for everything."

"I'll never get used to you saying that." Stiles said, quietly. He kissed the top of her head, and settled down into the sea of blanket. "I love you, Lydia."

They fell quiet, listening to the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. It reminded Stiles of trips to the sea he had taken as a child. He felt so calm and peaceful and they both slept better than they had in months. Their breathes soon became deep and even and their heartbeats were almost in sync.


End file.
